


Laura Hollis. (A Jane Eyre ReWrite)

by orphan_account



Category: Carmilla (Web Series), Jane Eyre - Charlotte Brontë
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Broken Laura, Character Death, F/F, F/M, Jane Eyre ReWrite, Multi, Other, WIP, other tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 09:01:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3284546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>10 year old Laura Hollis still tries to find little joys in everything even as she lives with her family who despise her.<br/>This is a story about how and who she discovers herself to be and does one Camilla Karnstein have something to do with it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There was simply no possibility of taking any walk, not in this dreaded weather. Since after dinner- Aunt Reed dined early when no one in company- the cold winter wind had brought dark stormy clouds so sombre and rain so heavy that talking a walk was simply out of the question.

Unfortunately I love to take walks, the cold dancing around my body and the wind through my hair. It feels like I am free, like I am one of the accepted children. Expect I am not, this made very clear by Mrs Reed who was lying ever so gracefully on the sofa surrounded by her children, Eliza, John and Georgina. I was ‘discharged’ from the group my aunt saying ’She regretted to be under the necessity of keeping me at a distance; but that until she heard from Bessie, and could discover by her own observation, that I was endeavoring in good earnest to acquire a more sociable and childlike disposition, a more attractive and sprightly manner something lighter, franker, more natural, as it were she really must exclude me from privileges intended only for contented, happy, little children.’

I did try hard not to roll my eyes, “But what has she claimed that I have done?” 

“Laura. Must I tell you again that I don’t like questioners. Children are meant to be seen and not heard. There is something unruly about a child questioning her elder.” 

I slipped out of the room and into the drawing room, asides from my bedroom, where I am free to write as I please as long as no one catches me, this room is my favorite. It contained a bookcase 3 times the height of Eliza and had some interesting books. Carefully choosing a book that contained pictures I mounted onto the window-seat: gathering my feet, I sat crossed legged and having drawn the heavy red curtain I was hidden from the outside world free to delve into another. The curtain was my protector from the inside world and to the right the clear window panes separated me from the dreaded winters day. At intervals, whilst turning the pages of my book, I studied the aspects of the winter afternoon. Afar it offered a pale blank of mist and cloud, near a scene of wet lawn and storm-beat scrub with careless rain sweeping away wildly. It offered the chance of adventure and inspiration to write, what could be happening outside the list was endless. 

I returned to my book, -Bewick’s history of birds- It is not a book that I was not fully invested in but in my simple mind I was fascinated by the pictures and the chance to be free like the birds were. I could pass the time easily staring at the picture creating stories about each and every bird, all different in some way or another. I was happy, Bewick on my knee and the winter’s day my view. That was until I heard the breakfast room door open. 

“Boh! Madame Mope!” cried the voice of John Reed: he paused thinking that the room was uninhabited. “Where the dickens is she!” He continued with a slight sigh, “Lizzy! Gorgey!” He called his sisters taking a few more steps into the room.  
I thought it time to draw the curtain for I was not one to disappoint, that and I couldn’t possibly let John Reed discover the place. He was not quick of sight; his sister however was. 

“She’s in the window seat, I’m positive!” Lizzy popped her head into the room.

I came out quickly, fearful of Jacks grasp. “Yes what do you want?” 

“Say, ‘Yes Master Reed how can I help you?’ and the answer is for you to come here.” He sat in the large leather chair and gestured that I was to go to him, never one to not take on a challenge I walked slowly towards him. 

John Reed was a schoolboy of 14, that making him 4 years old than me as I was only 10; large and stout for his age, with unhealthy appetite. This made him larger, blared eyed and with flabby cheeks. He should have been in school –I would have gladly taken his place- but his mother had taken him home for a few months on the account of his ‘ill health’ Mr. Miles, the master, affirmed that he would do very well if he had fewer cakes sent him from home; but his mother was having no such thing her stomach churning at such a suggestion and formed an idea that he was homesick.

John had not much affection for his mother and sisters, and had a hatred towards me that I have never understood. He bullied and punished me; not two or three times in the week, nor once or twice in the day, but continually. The servants tried to be kind to me afterwards as I was kind to them but overall they were fearful of the young master. Mrs Reed was as blind as a bat on the matter, she never saw him strike or heard him abuse me, though he did both now and then in her very presence, more frequently, however, behind her back.

Once I has approached him he spent some three minutes in thrusting out his tongue at me as far as he could without damaging the roots: I knew he would soon strike, and while dreading the blow, I mused on the disgusting and ugly appearance of him and how getting hit by a carriage would only make it easier on the eyes, if only I could carry out that notion except I hate to cause harm. I wonder if he read that notion in my face; for, all at once, without taking, he struck suddenly and strongly. I stumbled a few steps as I attempted to regain balance.

"That is for your impudence in answering mama awhile ago," said he, "and for your sneaking way of getting behind curtains, and for the look you had in your eyes two minutes since, you rat!"

Accustomed to John Reed's abuse, I never had an idea of replying to it; my care was how to deal with the blow which would certainly follow the insult.

"What were you doing behind the curtain?" he asked bellowing out the words, it was a wonder that the whole world did not hear him let alone his mother. 

"I was reading."

"Show the book."

I returned to the window and fetched it, bringing it to him silently.

"You have no business to take our books; you are a dependent, mama says; you have no money; your father left you none; you ought to beg, and not to live here with gentlemen's children like us, and eat the same meals we do, and wear clothes at our mama's expense. Now, I'll teach you to rummage my bookshelves: for they ARE mine; all the house belongs to me, or will do in a few years. Go and stand by the door, out of the way of the mirror and the windows."

I did so, not at first aware what was his intention; but when I saw him lift and poise the book and stand in act to hurl it, I instinctively started aside with a cry of alarm: not soon enough, however; the book was violently flung, it hit me, and I fell, striking my head against the door and cutting it. The cut bled, the pain was sharp and echoed through my body.

"Wicked and cruel boy!" I said. "You are like a murderer--you are  
like a slave-driver--you are like Frankenstein!"  
I had read Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein , and had formed my opinion of the creature , I had also drawn parallels in silence, which I never thought to have declared aloud.

"What! what!" he cried. "Did she say that to me? Did you hear her, Eliza and Georgiana? Won't I tell mama? but first--"

He ran headlong at me: I felt him grasp my hair and my shoulder: he had closed with a desperate thing. I really saw in him a tyrant, a murderer. I felt a drop or two of blood from my head trickle down my neck, I shuddered at the thought that a boy could do a thing. I hated boys.. I don't very well know what I did with my hands, but he called me "Rat! Rat!" and bellowed out aloud. Eliza and Georgiana had run for Mrs. Reed, who was gone upstairs: she now come into the room, followed by Bessie and her maid Abbot. We were tore apart: I heard the words -

"Dear! dear! What a fury to fly at Master John!"

"Did ever anybody see such a picture of passion!"

Then Mrs. Reed interrupted-

"Take her away to the red-room, and lock her in there." Four hands were immediately laid upon me, and I was quickly thrown upstairs.


	2. Chapter 2

I resisted all the way, in a way this was not new for me but quite usual, I felt that I must stand up to everything that is not good and John Reed was defiantly not good. In the circumstances this strengthened the already horrid view that Mrs Reed and Miss Abbott held upon me.

"Hold her arms, Miss Abbot: she's like a mad cat."

"For shame! For shame!" cried the lady's-maid. "What shocking conduct, Miss Hollis to strike a young gentleman, your benefactress's son! Your young master."

"Master! How is he my master? Am I a servant?" My snappy comments were not welcomed.

"No; you are less than a servant, for you do nothing for your keep. There, sit down, and think over your wickedness."

They had taken me into the ‘red-room’ a room that I was unfamiliar with and after been thrust upon a stool I had decided that it would be the first and the last time that I ever visited the ‘red-‘room’. The urge to run away from my ‘captures’ was all too tempting and in an instant I rose from the seat only to be quickly pushed back down again.  
"If you don't sit still, you must be tied down," said Bessie. "Miss Abbot, lend me your garters; she would break mine directly."

Miss Abbott nodded quickly at her superior and went to slowly take them off.

"Don't take them off," I cried; I was an innocent child with no want to see anyone’s let alone my captures body. “I’ll be still.” And then attached myself to my seat by my hands.  
"Mind you don't," said Bessie; and when she was sure that I was going to stay somewhat still she loosened her hold of me; then she and Miss Abbot stood with folded arms, looking darkly and doubtfully on my face.

"She never did so before," at last said Bessie, turning to the Abigail.

"But it was always in her," was the reply. "I've told Missis often my opinion about the child, and Missis agreed with me. She's an underhand little thing: I never saw a girl of her age with so much cover."

Bessie answered not; but ere long, addressing me, she said -- "You ought to be aware, Miss, that you are under obligations to Mrs. Reed: she keeps you: if she were to turn you off, you would have to go to the poorhouse."

I had nothing to say to these words: they were not new to me: I was told this for as long as I remember.

"And you ought not to think yourself on equality with the Misses Reed and Master Reed, because Missis kindly allows you to be brought up with them. They will have a great deal of money, and you will have none: it is your place to be humble, and to try to make yourself agreeable to them."

"What we tell you is for your good," added Bessie, in no harsh voice, "you should try to be useful and pleasant, then, perhaps, you would have a home here; but if you become passionate and rude, Missis will send you away, I am sure."

"Besides," said Miss Abbot, "God will punish her: He might strike her dead in the midst of her tantrums, and then where would she go? Come, Bessie, we will leave her: I wouldn't have her heart for anything. Say your prayers, Miss Eyre, when you are by yourself; for if you don't repent, something bad might be permitted to come down the chimney and fetch you away."

They went, shutting the door, and locking it behind them.

I sigh as sigh of relief, not wanting to hear what I already know again.

The red-room was a square chamber and it was one of the largest and stateliest chambers in the mansion. A bed supported on massive pillars of mahogany, hung with curtains of deep red damask; the two large windows, with their blinds always drawn down, were half shrouded in festoons and falls of similar drapery; the carpet was red; the table at the foot of the bed was covered with a crimson cloth; the walls were a soft fawn colour with a blush of pink in it; the wardrobe, the toilet-table, the chairs were of darkly polished old mahogany. Out of these deep surrounding shades rose high and glared white, the piled-up mattresses and pillows of the bed, spread with a snowy throw.  
The room was colder than I had ever known a room to be; it was due to the lake of fire, the silence filled the room for something I was glad of the fact that it was far from the nursery and kitchen. The house-maid alone came here on Saturdays, to wipe from the mirrors and the furniture a week's quiet dust: and Mrs. Reed herself, at far intervals, visited it to review the contents of a certain secret drawer in the wardrobe, where were stored divers parchments, her jewel-casket, and a miniature of her deceased husband; and in those last words lies the secret of the red-room.

Mr. Reed had been dead nine years: it was in this chamber he breathed his last; since that day, a sense of doom attached to that had guarded it from frequent visitation  
It took me a few moments to the dreary silence to rise from my jail and walk to the window. The window glass was frosted over and not much could be from the outside, with a sigh I went to walk back to the stool that was meant to keep me grounded.

My blood ran warm around my body, the thought of them made me want to run a thousand miles in the opposite direction. All John Reed's violent actions, his sister’s idiocy and compliancy to life as well as his mother’s ignorance to look at the situation with open eyes. Why was I always suffering, always beaten, always accused, for ever condemned? Why could I never please? Why was it useless to try to win any one's favour? Eliza, who was headstrong and selfish, was respected. Georgiana, who had a spoiled temper, Her beauty, her pink cheeks and golden curls, seemed to give delight to all who looked at her, gave her seemingly the right to get away with murder. John no one disobeyed, much less punished; though he twisted the necks of the pigeons, killed the little pea-chicks, set the dogs at the sheep, called his mother "old girl,"; not unfrequently tore and spoiled her silk attire; and he was still "her own darling." I dared committed no fault: I strove to fulfil every duty; and that made me naughty and tiresome, sullen and sneaking, from morning to noon, and from noon to night.

My head still ached and bled with the blow and fall I had received: no one had said anything about his actions being horrid, no, only mine where a disgrace.

"Unjust! -- unjust!" said my reason shouted in my head, I would run away, starve, jump anything that would make this whole situation go away, I would have rather died.

I was hated at Gateshead Hall: I was like nobody there; I had nothing in harmony with Mrs. Reed or her children. They did not love me; in fact, as little did I love them. They did not need to have affection towards me; they had no obligation to sympathise with me. The only thing that they seemed to interact with me was through insults; a heterogeneous thing, opposed to them in temperament, in capacity, in propensities; a useless thing, incapable of serving their interest, or adding to their pleasure. I know that had I been an optimistic, brilliant, careless, exacting child -- though equally dependent and friendless -- Mrs. Reed would have endured my presence more complacently; her children would have entertained for me; the servants would have less wanted to make me the scapegoat of the nursery.

Daylight began to leave the red-room, it was nearing five o’clock and the cloudy day began to blend with the darkness of night. I heard the rain still beating continuously on the staircase window, and the wind howling in the grove behind the hall. I became cold by the second as I did my courage sank.

I began to think of the late Mr Reed, and how he lied here as he died and. I never doubted that if Mr. Reed had been alive he would have treated me kindly; and now, as I sat looking at the white bed and overshadowed walls. I began to recall what I had heard of dead men, I thought Mr. Reed's spirit, harassed by the wrongs of his sister's child. I wiped my tears and hushed my sobs. Shaking my hair from my eyes, I lifted my head and tried to look boldly round the dark room; at this moment a light gleamed on the wall. Was it, I asked myself my head I looked continually at the light. My heart beat thick, my head grew hot; a sound filled my ears. I felt like I couldn’t breathe that air was being taken from my lungs; I rushed to the door and shook the lock in desperate effort. Steps came running along from the hallway, Bessie and Abbot entered.

"Miss Hollis are you ill?" said Bessie.

"What a dreadful noise! It went quite through me!" exclaimed Abbot.

"Take me out! Let me go into the nursery!" I cried

"What for? Are you hurt? Have you seen something?" again demanded Bessie.

"Oh! I saw a light, and I thought a ghost would come." I had now got hold of Bessie's hand, and she did not snatch it from me.

"She has screamed out on purpose," declared Abbot, in some disgust. "And what a scream! If she had been in great pain one would have excused it, but she only wanted to bring us all here: I know her naughty tricks."

"What is all this?" demanded another voice peremptorily; and Mrs. Reed came along the corridor, her cap flying wide, her gown rustling stormily. "Abbot and Bessie, I believe I gave orders that Laura Hollis should be left in the red-room till I came to her myself."

"Miss Laura screamed so loud, ma'am," pleaded Bessie.

"Let her go," was the only answer. "Loose Bessie's hand, child: you cannot succeed in getting out by these means, be assured. It is my duty to show you that tricks will not answer: you will now stay here an hour longer and it is only on condition of perfect submission and stillness that I shall liberate you then."

"O aunt! Have pity! Forgive me! let me be punished some other way! I shall be killed if --”

"Silence! This violence is all most repulsive:" and so, no doubt, she felt it

Bessie and Abbot having retreated, Mrs. Reed, impatient of my now frantic wild sobs, quickly thrust me back and locked me in, without further thought. I heard her sweeping away; and soon after she was gone, II felt the life drain out of me and unconsciousness closed the scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi :) 
> 
> All mistakes are mine and anything recognisable is not.
> 
> I'm sorry that it doesn't differ from the book much at the moment, it will soon I promise. 
> 
> Thanks for reading :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi.  
> Disclaimer- Everything recognizable is not mine and all the mistakes are mine.
> 
> I'm sorry for the Ooc-ness at the moment, I promise (I hope) that it will get better as it goes along. As well as the 'Frankenstein' reference which is not exactly in historical place. 
> 
> So..thanks for reading :)


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